


Thin Red Line

by Servetolive



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Anal Sex, Descent, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mind Games, The Borg, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/pseuds/Servetolive
Summary: Lore has a special way of dealing with his unruliest and most promising Borg charge.





	Thin Red Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenLoofah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenLoofah/gifts).



 

The knock on the door was out of sync; syncopated, in a strange way that the Borg had no way of knowing was so. Lore pulled his lips away from his brother, leaving just enough room for him to murmur loudly, “Come in.”

Crosis and another drone had him by his shoulders, his feet skidding against the ground as he struggled against them. Once Lore caught sight of him, he moved to stand. Data caught on and stood from his twin’s lap, and together, they observed Hugh being dragged before him, his brow furrowed in defiance and his bottom lip pursed and tense.

Crosis and his drone shoved Hugh to the ground, holding him firm against the ground. Hugh grunted as his chin hit the concrete.

“Data,” Lore said, turning his chin down to his younger sibling. His eyes did not leave the captive before him, however. “Go outside. Make sure that the others keep busy.”

Data looked up at Lore, eyes widened for a moment. Hugh had seen it many times before: separation anxiety from those of them fortunate enough to be in Lore’s intimate presence.

“But, brother–”

“Go on.”

Without another word, Data left the room. Hugh’s eyes followed the younger android’s movement until he heard the door behind him hiss open and squeeze shut.

From the corner of his eye, Hugh saw the black, pointed tip of Lore’s boot adjacent to his face. He didn’t know why he was straining so much to see more of him–the more he tensed, the harder the drones pressed him into the ground.

Lore sighed.

“Let him go,” he said.

They did, and Hugh dared not move. He breathed heavier than ever against the floor, looking up at Lore, as the drones released him. He shook his shoulders away–a sign of defiance that no one bothered noticing.

He was able to crane his neck upwards to look up at The One, who gave him a kind smile before reaching down and pulling the cord the connected his visual feed to the rest of his body.

* * *

When Hugh opened his eyes, it was to a slightly different reality. His limbs were entangled in a mess of of hydraulic wires that fed into the main computer in Lore and Data’s personal lab, and he had no control over them.

It was not something that normally would have caused him immediate alarm: he had spent his earliest years hooked up to the Collective in the same manner, undergoing maintenance or repairs after a battle. He would hear the comforting hum of his comrades and could feel the warm thrall of nutrients entering his feeding tube.

His eyepiece–which he had once showed Geordi, the one who had given him his name–was missing. He felt the strange, brisk sensation of _cold_ surge through him, something that was foreign, even in the dark halls of Lore’s lair.

He heard his name.

_Hugh._

Hugh lifted his head. Off to his right, attending a panel, Lore stood with his back to him, typing in commands.

Hugh fought the impulse to allow his neck jerk to the side, and failed. He grunted just as Lore punched a few commands in and looked in his direction, over his shoulder.

His world faded again, just as if he were in the nursery.

Hugh opened his eyes, frigid air billowing from his nostrils into a cloud in the air before him.

Lore was near him. He couldn’t see him yet, but he could see how the air refused to settle around him. He caught a flash of gold, though it took a few seconds longer for the light to reach his brain.

“Let…” Hugh thought about what his human friends had taught him, but nothing they had said had anything to do with the concept of conflicting emotions.

“Let me go,” he said. He knew he sounded weak. He knew he sounded unsure. He wouldn’t even have known to bring such words to his lips if it weren’t for the Collective, and he wouldn’t have any idea of the meaning behind them if it weren’t for The One.

Lore ignored him, at first. He clucked his tongue.

“Poor thing,” he said, quietly. He heard the sound of water, and closed his eyes to the warm streams that flowed in tiny streams over his forehead. The difference in temperature left signatures around his face and chest; everywhere that they touched.

“How many times is it now,” the android said. He appeared in front of Hugh, giving him a start. Lore’s gold eyes examined Hugh’s black pupils, the same way a doctor would. The pail in his right hand fell to the floor as the wet sponge came up to nip at the sore sides of Hugh’s mouth.

“Three?” Lore dropped it into the bucket and held Hugh’s jaw firmly in his fingers, like he were examining an animal to confirm its pedigree.

Hugh had no desire to be touched in such a way.

“Three times you’ve run from me,” Lore went on, turning Hugh’s chin this way and that. “And yet, I still refuse to believe that you don’t want to be here.”

Hugh remembered the first time he had run, and the first time he had been dragged back. The first time he had heard Lore’s voice in relation to him and him alone; the first time he felt the android’s fingertips slide against his own inorganic flesh. The fruitiess argument he had tried to pose to Lore. The response Lore had given him. The rising bumps on his ashen skin.

“I don’t understand it, Hugh.” Lore was fiddling with the remote settings on the device in his hand while Hugh hung from the wiring in the ceiling. “You’re not so different from me.”

Hugh tried to jerk away from Lore’s touch. He knew what would come next. The honey smile, the patronizing gaze, the pursed lips.

He heard the water drip as the sponge moved to his bruised lips.

“I want to leave,” Hugh said, trembling. “I do not wish to be–”

“Assimilated?” Lore sighed, looking at the floor for a moment in that infuriating way that reeked of condescension. “Nobody here wants to be _assimilated,_ Hugh. Haven’t you been listening?”

Hugh said nothing, but his mind followed the patterns of warmth that the water made as it trickled down beneath his uniform. Lore reached out with a hand and tore way the plating of his torso, exposing the rivulets to cold air, causing him to shudder violently.

“We’re trying to advance beyond that.”

He felt the hot tips of Lore’s fingers tear through the rest of his protective clothing, razoring into his sides as the plasticine fell away.

“You have such a beautiful mind,” Lore whispered softly in his ear, his hands–at room temperature–curling around Hugh’s waist and sliding down to his hips. “I really don’t want to take it away from you.”

In that moment, with his chest heaving, Hugh wished he could say something to Lore. He wished he had the sense to argue with him, as others had, even if it might have meant the end of his self-awareness.

The android brought one hand up to the wires and snapped one free. Cold gasses hissed from the broken cord and Hugh felt a part of him jerk downwards, as all the feeling bled from his upper arms and feet.  

Smirking, Lore took the sizzling, live end of the wire and traced it against Hugh’s skin. He knew what it should have felt like. The first time he ran, Lore hadn’t bothered to take his nervous system offline before shocking him, and he remembered arching his back into the air, screaming out into the open as the currents racked his body.

Now he felt _almost_ nothing, but not nothing: a slower, burning ache that trickled into his nerves rather than jolted through him out right.  He moaned an alarmed, frightened whimper as crackle of the charge traced the twitching muscles in his abdomen.

Smiling, Lore reached down and pulled the rest of the Borg’s clothes away from him, exposing his young and expectant cock.

“Don’t,” Hugh breathed. He still had problems understanding why, but something about his memory on the _Enterprise_ told him that he should object. Perhaps even that the pleasure that Lore had given him the first two times was not desirable.

“Sssh,” Lore cooed into his ear, now standing behind him. This made Hugh even more nervous, since he couldn’t see what the android would do next.

“Stop it.” He brought his arms up and around Hugh’s arms, pressing his lips against his temple. “Don’t let those _human_ discretions get the best of what you and I have here,” he paused to wrap a warm, buzzing hand around Hugh’s sex, which caused the young Borg to tense up and cry out openly, his eyes squeezed shut.

Before that, Hugh had been considering countering with something–something about whether or not they “had” anything at all, but the thought remained unformed, and without any reference to further it. This–even though it was “unwanted,” whatever that meant–was more than what he had ever been given by his comrades in the collective; more than what he had been able to give. That they were all connected with each other deep beneath the bioplast seemed to pale in comparison to what warm, gentle contact with a stronger being could offer.

Lore chuckled in his ear. “Why are you crying, Hugh?” His fist moved slowly up the shaft of Hugh’s cock, stopping to enclose the head with his thumb and forefinger in a ring. Hugh twitched and shuddered as Lore tightened the ring and moved it up and down.

He could hear the pointed corners of his mouth, smirking as he talked. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” he replied, still incapable of telling untruths.

Grinning madly, Lore scooped up the leaking fluid from Hugh’s cock and held his dripping fingers up before the Borg.

“Do you want me to make it feel even better?” he asked, smoothing it across Hugh’s jaw when he cupped his chin. He slid a finger past his bottom lip and teeth, allowing him to taste himself–an act, perhaps, a few degrees too high for him on the sensory input scale.

Hugh, who was seizing up from overstimulation, wasn’t sure what to make of all this. He opened his eyes toward the bright lights above him, hoping that their brightness would cut into his nervous system to distract him from the dull ache he felt in his crotch. It didn’t work.

He shut his eyes. Tears pooled at the corners.

“Yes.”

* * *

Their favorite reward was the show Lore would put on for them in the Great Hall, with he and his brother at the center, naked and caressing.

They never talked about it openly, but it was the wish of every Borg that they could have what Lore gave his brother. They emulated the same desperate looks Data made at him; the same pleading sounds of devotion in their voices.

Hugh had no idea how many of his cohorts were able to say that they had been penetrated by Lore, but no matter what his fledgling independence had taught him about autonomy and independence, the feeling either of those gave him were dust compared to the feeling of Lore deep inside of him, filling a space in his body that he had never known he possessed, connecting with him in a way that was wholly unknown to him and his people.

It wasn’t just the feeling of his cock pulsing inside of him or the grip of his fingers around his hips. Lore was able to tap into their hive mind with ease, filling him with indescribable thoughts and small comforts that gave more meaning to contact than his interactions with his so-called “friends” on the _Enterprise_ had ever given him.

What’s more, Lore’s voice came into his head in words, just as much as feeling.

_You want to leave us, Hugh?_

The feeling of lips and hot breath against his cold skin was sublime. Hugh felt his eyes glass over as Lore pushed deeper inside of him, the remaining wires above him rumbling softly as they ran into each other.

Hugh moaned: a sound so foreign to his own ears. He could hear the mechanical ruffle of other Borg peeking at them from the doorway behind them. Lore paid them no mind.

The soiled hand cupped his chin again, this time harshly.

_You want to leave_ me?

Hugh cried out again. It was meant to be a word–yes? no? What could he possibly mean by either of them?

Lore sighed into his neck, dipping into it with his metal teeth.

_You think anyone_ out there _can give you what I give you?_

With Lore’s words fresh in his mind and the knowledge that his brethren stood watching, likely painting him as “lucky,” and the understanding that they would see him in a completely new, different light, Hugh found within himself the link to his thoughts and the functions of his body and clenched himself around Lore’s cock.

“No,” he said out loud, surprising himself: Borg never answered vocally to what was said in Their mind. He was near completion, almost convulsing, and had no mind to think about the consequences of it. He leaned his head back against Lore, another action that he could never have thought of it weren’t for he and Data’s displays of passion.

_Very good, dear._

Lore stopped moving and pulled out of Hugh, which made him sigh and gasp with disappointment: the most _human_ noises he had ever heard himself make. The android’s hands came up and around, one grabbing Hugh’s cock and the other taking hold of his balls.

“I’m going to do something for you,” Lore whispered loudly enough for anyone listening in to hear. “That I’ve never done for anyone besides my brother.”

He tried to watch Lore’s hand move quickly up and down his anatomy, but the painful shocks it caused sent disruptions to his visual feed.

He panted, unable to speak. The shocks hovered between sharp jolts of pain and the addictive stabs of a narcotic flowing through his systems.

This was impossible. It was like witchcraft to him.

The whole structure seemed to shake with him when Hugh came. He didn’t realize until the very last moment that as he poured into Lore’s waiting hand, he was screaming loudly enough to breach the confines of the walls.

The sound of his voice died down as his processes shut off, one by one.

* * *

He woke some time later, still hanging, still hooked, but without the feeling of warmth that he had felt spread between he and The One.

He wasn’t alone. Data was there, still in his vibrant uniform, out of place as ever. He was examining a panel in Hugh’s head, unconcerned with his indecent, filthy condition.

“Lore wanted me to inspect you before releasing you,” he said, gently, without any of the beauty and closeness he had felt with his older brother.

Hugh said nothing, but hung there, tired and with a dull pain in his thighs, which were suddenly coming to life. To keep himself company, he tried to piece together the emotions he had when Lore was embracing him; the feeling of his head against his shoulder and the comfort of his touch. The pain and the unwanted excitement that was indecipherable for him.

And he realized, for the first time, just how cold anything else besides Lore’s touch felt to him.


End file.
